Seeing Blind
by eloquant.grace
Summary: There are five senses. Taste, Touch, Smell, Hearing and Sight. Some would say the day the two towers came crashing down was the day that Oliver was only left with only four ... but if you asked Oliver he’d tell you a different story.


**AN:** This story deals with racsism ... so i guess it may be offensive to some people so if it is I'm really sorry ... I tried my best to be politically correct and avoid offending anyone as much as possible. If theres ways I can make it better let me know and I'll fix it, or if it offeneds anyone too much let me know and I'll take it off ... thanks =)

ps: yes i did write this as a form of procrastination =/ ... sooo theres probably a few errors ... sorry for those too.

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**Seeing Blind**

He sat on the edge of the beach. The sun's golden rays gently radiated their heat across his face, a final farewell before the night fell. He had been sitting for hours. The twilight breeze blew the rustling autumn leaves from their trees and across the horizon planes. Sand wisped up in controlled excitement drawing patterns in the wind. Oliver closed his eyes as he felt the last of the sun's rays disappeared over the horizon's edge. The scene was picturesque, as the stars one by one began to appear in the sky. He liked it here. It was here he could sit and think, away from the cruel realms of society. There was something comforting about night. It was as though he and night shared a similar story, and even in the darkness both he and night seemed to find a beauty that couldn't be understood to those who knew light. This was a beauty that could only be seen in the darkness. It was a beauty that Oliver had come to appreciate, a beauty that only night and him seemed to understand and know all to well.

Oliver could taste the salt in the wind as the tide slowly began to creep back up the beach. It had been 3 years this day since the night had become his friend. He drew his knees into his chest and listened to the rhythmic sound of the waves tumbling into the shore, the sounds of nature were a familiar sound to him now. He felt the faint trembles and vibrations in the ground. Someone was coming. Oliver sat quietly where he was hoping to assess the situation before moving again. The vibrations became more prominent and he knew that the person was heading his way. As the person ran closer, Oliver knew they were distressed. The peace and equilibrium in the air was replaced by one of stress and tension, fear and anguish. Oliver knew this was not a good sign. The person's shallow raspy breaths intruded the peaceful rhythm of the beach before them. Whoever they were, they were running. The only question was ... what from?

It wasn't long before the voices of three other males could be heard. Oliver was mortified by the bitter words that came out of their mouths. They were the hunters, and the stranger who had come before, their prey. Oliver tried to listen, orientating the positions of each man on the beach. He knew it was only a matter of time before the hunters stumbled upon the frightened man whose breaths faintly disrupted the whirling winds evening song. Oliver sat, hoping the situation would somehow resolve itself and disapear, but somehow he knew it wouldn't.

With a bloodcurdling yell of pain Oliver knew that their prey had been found. The hunters surrounded their target with egotistical pride and false airs of superiority. Oliver cringed at the violent sounds that came from the scene before him; it was times like these he was glad that perpetual darkness hid what the seeing man could see ... but the sounds. Oliver tried to cover his ears hoping it would all go away, yet sounds of pain echoed within his ears. The pleading cries for help and mercy had penetrated and swelled deep within his soul. He couldn't take it anymore. He shouldn't have even let it go on for this long to begin with.

'STOP!' Oliver roared. Those who were there said that his voice roared like the thunders of a great storm, and he stood fearless with the presences and stature of a man well beyond his years. Oliver's eyes cast down to where the three men stood above their cowering victim. It was almost as if night's darkness had been cast away and he gazed deep within each of their very souls. The men stood in awe of the young boy who had the stature of a man.

'Look at this filthy mongrel,' one dared to speak. 'It's people like this that shouldn't even be allowed here.'

Oliver's eyes trailed to the direction of the mans voice. The man's pride seemed to swallow itself as the boys eyes stared straight through him.

'What do you mean?' Oliver spoke. His tone was calm but authoritative.

'He looks like one of them,' the man replied. 'One of them terrorists ....'

Oliver let the man continue. The man's response was one of ignorance, racism and fear. For years Oliver had been unsure of the events that had lead up to his being the way he was, and his attitute towards the steryotyped racism that had being slowly filtered throughtout the country he called home ... but to him, the side he would take for life all became clear in the 3 minutes of ignorance he had to endure as the man before him tried to justify his singled out his target based on unwarrented fears.

'No man should ever be subject to the actions of ignorance.' Oliver said. He was now only a few feet away from where all the men stood. 'You're actions tonight have been based on the unwarrented fears and stereotypes that you have allowed society to create within you. It sickens me that you believe you are doing 'good' when in fact this man has a family of his own. He is a father and provider, he is a carer for his family just like you ... and somehow you still think that by beating him to a pulp you are creating justice for a event that happened over 3 years ago? How's this going to solve the problem? Or even protect your families?'

The men stood in silence as the boy continued to speak with an inspired wisdom well beyond his years.

'It doesn't matter what religion, creed or race your from, it matters how you hold yourself, how you act and what you do. The men who caused you hurt when those two tower's fell may have been from this man's country, and even of his faith, but they were the minority of the majority. If one person does something stupid should we say the rest of the world is stupid too?' Oliver posed the question unsure where he was going with it all, but he continued to speak. 'This man cannot be held responsible for the things that happened 3 years ago, just as the world cannot be held responsible for your ignorance. Now get out of here and leave him alone!'

As Oliver finished speaking even the wind seemed to be silenced in awe. It wasn't long before Oliver could feel the vibrations of the men walking away. Oliver extended his hand in front of him. It was then that the man who had been cowering on the sand had his suspicion confirmed. Manouvering himself he gratefully took the boys hand and rose to his feet.

'Thank-you good sir ...' His accent was foreign and thick.

'Oliver,' Oliver cut him off. 'Just call me Oliver.'

'Oliver,' the man started again 'How did you go ...?' his voice was filled with curiosity but trailed off as he noticed the boys body language. Oliver bowed his head; he knew where the question was going, the answer was quite simple too. The man picked up on the boy's discomfort at his question.

'I'm sorry for my asking.' He apologised.

'No.' Oliver replied a little too loudly, raising his head he looked in the direction of the man. 'No,' he repeated just a little softer this time making an effort to control his voice.

'It was three years ago ... I was in New York with my father. He was a fireman you know ... well I hadn't seen him in a while and we went out for coffee ... father and son ... like the times when used to have together ... that's when the first one hit.' Oliver remained silent for a bit ... the memory still raw as it resurfaced itself. 'He wasn't even on duty ... but he went to help. He could have stayed with me, but he didn't. That was him. My Dad.'

The man stood watching the boy talk. He spoke with a great admiration for the father figure that the man could only guess had passed. The man's heart ached for the boy. He must have had a great father he thought, especially after if all he'd been through allowed him to still stand up for what was right, and what he believed in, even when he was outnumbered, and disadvantaged. The man had great respect for the boy whom was probably half his age, but even he knew only a select few in the world could be the conquer of ignorance and the seeers for those whom were blinded by their sociatal fears. The boy continued.

'He died that day.' Oliver took a moment to swallow down the emotions that tried to escape him. 'He died, and he was the last person I ever saw.' Tears began to flow freely down his face, but this time Oliver didn't care. It was as though all of a sudden he was free from the burden that he had carried for the last three years.

'I have to admit,' Oliver spoke again, his voice broke as he admitted the truth for the first time to himself as well, 'for three years I've hated the people that took away my father, I hated them, their country and religion ... but in all that hating ... I found I hated myself. I found a comfort in the darkness I had come to know ... it became a part of me, hatred, fear you know all that ... but tonight ... tonight ... somehow I think for the first time I've been able to see again. For the first time in a long time I think I know who I am, and I know what's right. Thank-you.' Oliver extended his hand to the bewildered man standing in front of him. The man took his hand in his and shook it. A symbol of gratitude, friendship and forgiveness.

'Thank-you, my son, you're father would be proud.' The man said before releasing his grip and walking off into the night. As he left the wind began to stir again, Oliver listened to the melodic song of nature and lyrical messages it brought. As he listened he could almost swear he heard his father's voice saying 'Well done my son. Well done. I am proud.'

**. . . . . .**

There are five senses. Taste, Touch, Smell, Hearing and Sight. Some would say the day the two towers came crashing down was the day that Oliver was only left with only four ... but if you asked Oliver he'd tell you a different story. He'd tell you that he had started with four, and the day the two towers came down was the day he started to learn how to see again ... until three years later when the shades of perpetual darkness were lifted with the light of knowledge and truth.

Sometimes seeing can leave you blinded, but in being blind we are often lead to see.


End file.
